


Into the Crucible

by NightsMistress



Category: The Song of the Lioness - Tamora Pierce, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Gen, Ordeal fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-22
Updated: 2013-09-22
Packaged: 2017-12-27 07:08:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/975912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightsMistress/pseuds/NightsMistress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Alex and Myles are always arguing about right and wrong.</i> - Alanna: the First Adventure.</p><p>The Chamber shows Alex what he is most afraid of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into the Crucible

**Author's Note:**

  * For [russian_blue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/russian_blue/gifts).



“Don’t be afraid of the Chamber,” Duke Roger had told Alex the previous night. Traditionally that night was for the knight to instruct his squire in the Code of Chivalry, but they had both agreed that it wasn’t necessary. After all, as the Duke had rightfully pointed out, Alex would be miserable enough simply bathing in the chill waters of the vigil bath without having to listen to some antiquated code of conduct. Traditionally there would have been also be a second knight present, but Duke Roger had dispensed with that unnecessary formality as well. Alex never wished for the Gift more than he did in the moment where Duke Roger convinced Sir Lionel of his vivid memories of having instructed a dutiful and attentive squire the night before.

“The magic of the Chamber is beyond even my complete understanding. It shows you visions of a future that you fear, to make. Remember though: whatever it shows you, that future is not fixed in stone. You can choose whether it comes to pass or not.”

Alex kept these words in mind as he was guided towards the Chamber. He was the master of his own fate. He was not afraid. He remembered seeing the others come out of the Chamber grey-faced and unsteady. Roger was not able to say why it was that the Chamber would test its knights like that.

“There is no shame in fear. You will fear. That’s only sensible. But don’t let your fear overwhelm you, and tell me what you see afterward so that if necessary we can avert it together.”

The door to the Chamber of Ordeal swung open and Alex walked in, head held high. He didn’t look to his friends for reassurance, and he did not look back as the priests closed the door to the Chamber behind him and left him in darkness.

His eyes adjusted. It wasn’t completely dark. If he squinted, he could see a dim glow, though he couldn’t see the source. This was not unexpected. He had been told about this after all. Alex knew that Duke Roger wasn’t meant to tell him this, but they had both agreed that that rule was merely a formality. It could not affect the magic of the Ordeal, Duke Roger had assured him.

Alex hoped not. He would succeed or he would die. He would not accept anything else.

He could hear voices and tilted his head to listen. The lights brightened and it showed a memory of his past. Alex’s smile took on a sardonic edge. Perhaps the chamber could read his mind, because it showed the first time that Alex had spoken to Duke Roger. It was after Duke Roger had chosen Alex to be his squire. Perhaps it had been on his mind, but Alex didn’t like it much.

“Do you know why I chose you?” Duke Roger said.

Alex watched on as the younger Alex shook his head.

“I’d thought you’d choose Jon,” the younger Alex said. “You’re cousins, after all.”

“Yes, but I’ve been watching you for some time, as I would any promising squire,” Duke Roger went on. “Unlike the others in your year, you don’t simply accept something as being true simply because you’re told it. You have a critical mind, and that’s something I think we should foster.”

Younger Alex had a carefully blank expression on his face. “You mean with mathematics?”

“That is a useful skill for a knight to have,” Duke Roger said. “Too many knights are barely literate as it is. But no, I mean how you think about how the Code should be applied, and whether it should be applied all the time. Sir Myles is jealous of your mind, you know. That’s why he punishes you.”

The older Alex frowned. That wasn’t how the conversation had gone. Duke Roger had praised his insight into the inapplicability of the Code. He certainly hadn’t said anything that critical of Sir Myles. While Alex had certainly thought that was what Sir Myles was doing, he’d kept those thoughts carefully to himself. He held his tongue and waited.

“Well,” the younger Alex said. “Sir Myles is very learned, but he shows us more about how the Code doesn’t work than how it does.”

“Very aptly put,” Duke Roger said. “Sir Myles used to be a great intellectual light, but it’s all but extinguished now. He used to love the Code, you see. He loved it as much as any living person could, and it ground him to dust underneath it.”

“Yes,” the younger Alex said. “That’s true.” He took a breath, studying Duke Roger’s face carefully, before he continued speaking. “The Code is a fiction. It’s a lie we are deluded into believing applies to all situations. It doesn’t. There are any number of situations where the chivalrous thing is the wrong thing to do, and I won’t do the stupid thing. I’ll always do the smart thing and make sure that my goals are the ones that come out on top. No matter what I have to, or what the Code says I should do.” His smile was sly as he added, “Besides. If our tutors believed that, they would only assign us all this work. It’s hardly chivalrous to drown us in work we can never complete.”

“Yes,” Duke Roger said thoughtfully, stroking his beard. “Yes, you are a good choice. You asked why you? I saw potential. My cousin may be a good king one day but you will be a even finer King’s Champion.” He smiled then, a thin smile utterly devoid of any of the genial charm that Duke Roger always had. “Assuming they let you live after I’m done with you.”

Alex stepped back in surprise. That had not happened at all. He remembered this conversation, because it was one they had often after Alex had confessed his ambition to be Jon’s Champion one day. He had thought that Duke Roger would laugh, but he had been nothing but incredibly supportive. He had arranged for private lessons with a sword, bow and lance, and told him that it was his honor to assist such a promising young man to achieve his full potential.

Alex stared at the memory one last time, shook his head and turned neatly on his heel, presenting his back to the lies the Chamber showed him. That wasn’t how it was. He knew that. He knew that the Chamber would show him what he feared. He’d heard the stories about how Alan distrusted Duke Roger, heard Alan insist that the Duke was not to be trusted, despite all the evidence to the contrary. There’d been rumors that there was madness in the line of Trebond, maybe that was where Alan got these strange ideas from. His father, the lord of Trebond, had the quiet sort of madness. Everyone in court knew that, and the younger Alan was very peculiar in his own right. Little Alan may have more in common with his namesake than just a name. 

Alex would believe Duke Roger over Alan, and he’d prove that with his sword if he had to.

He blinked and when he opened his eyes, the Chamber had a new image to show him.

Instead, it moved on to showing him something he had not seen before. He was fighting Alan, an Alan who was no taller but somehow looked older. Alex himself was a man grown, and his form was impeccable as he struck at a weak spot in Alan’s guard. However, no matter how much Alex pressed the advantage, Alan danced out of the way as if to mock Alex. As Alan disarmed him with a casual flick of his wrist after a few minutes, Alex realized that Alan had gone far beyond Alex’s skill level.

“You’re done, Alex,” Alan said calmly, as Alex went to retrieve his sword. “You’ve lost. Last chance to submit. Roger’s dead, you know. We know he was manipulating people. If you say you were controlled, you’d get a lesser sentence.”

“Never,” older Alex said with a sneer. “I have honor, even you don’t. Do your worst, false Champion.”

Alex watched in growing fury as his older self accepted defeat. His teeth ground together as the defeated, false Alex watched on in despair as his sword was broken by Alan, as he was stripped of his knighthood by a calmly disinterested Jon. Jon had been his friend. Jon knew that Duke Roger would never harm him. Or rather, he did know before Alan showed up. There must be a reason for Alan to appear so much in a vision of a future he must avert. 

The scene shifted to late spring instead of midwinter, and the fake Alex had been sent home to Tirragen in disgrace, his hands broken to ensure he’d never wield a sword against the King again. He could make some coin as a mathematics tutor, but he knew with grim certainty that he would never tutor anyone bar the most stupid of commoners. That was no service for a knight.

It was early autumn and his hands had healed into claws. The healer at Tirragen had never been skilled, and there had been pressure to ensure that his hands never healed true. The only way to dull the pain was the cheap sour wine that he drunk constantly. He drowned himself in spirits to ignore the jeers of young boys in the fief of Tirragen who aspired to knighthood. He ignored courtiers’ stage whispers of how promising he had been before he fell. Such a waste to have lost everything so young, they said. A failure at the last, doomed because his pride was less than his skill. It happens, sometimes, with those that burn bright. If only he had bent the knee to Sir Alan, the King’s Champion, confessed to being a mere pawn of Duke Roger, and accepted that he was always going to lose, then maybe he could have settled for being a mere knight. Never the best. But adequate.

He would never be the best swordsman that Tortall had seen; that title would go to Alan of Trebond. He would never be a knight. He would lose everything he had ever wanted, because of Alan of Trebond.

 _I won’t,_ Alex thought fiercely. He set his jaw against the litany of failures the Chamber threw at him, of the dissolute depression that seeped into his self through the Chamber’s magic. He understood what the Chamber was doing and he would not yield. He would not doubt Duke Roger, and he would ensure that the threat that Alan of Trebond posed was contained. He thought at the Chamber as fiercely as he could: _I am not afraid, because this will not happen. I cannot lose, not to Alan. One day he may be better than me, but only if I let it happen. Neither you nor him will not beat me. I will never lose._

The Chamber door opened, and Alex stumbled into the arms of Duke Roger.

“Well done, Sir Alexander,” Roger murmured, low enough so that only Alex could hear. It was unconventional, calling Alex that so soon, but the Duke was brother to the King and so was allowed his flights of whimsy. Now that Alex had passed his Ordeal, the rest was mere formality, and they both knew where they stood on that. “Remember what the Chamber showed you, and use it like the tool it is.”

 _Yes,_ Alex thought as he closed his eyes and let his trembling body rest on the Duke’s supporting shoulder. _I won’t forget. I will never lose to Alan of Trebond. Never._

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Winner (Takes It All)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11958519) by [mihrsuri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mihrsuri/pseuds/mihrsuri)




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